


The Black Parade

by BlueBells66 (LadySunflower39), LadySunflower39



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aegon is a Blackfyre pretender, Angst, F/M, I might mix it with show elements, Jon is a Targaryen, Jon is kinda dark, slightly AU from Book canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-03-05 11:08:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13386558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySunflower39/pseuds/BlueBells66, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySunflower39/pseuds/LadySunflower39
Summary: Stuff I wanted to see in the show, but never happened.





	1. Val

**Author's Note:**

> All rights belong to HBO and George RR Martin.

Chaos reigned in Castle Black. The Wildlings, the Northmen, the Queen’s men and the Night’s Watch were armed and ready to tear each other apart.

 

 _Jon Snow was dead_ , or so she believed.

 

No man can withstand that many wounds, she thought when her eyes found the young man’s body. His wounds steamed and sopped the snow crimson.

 

It was a terrible sight, but Val was no stranger to loss. She lost her sister moons ago when she birthed her nephew. She lost Jarl as well, but that wound ached less. He was a man of the Free Folk and many of them do not grow to old age.

 

Like Jon Snow, she thought again and wished he stole her before finding this miserable end. Thus he would have at least died with a sweet memory of his mind. _A pity._

“Traitors!” one of the young crows shouted at Jon Snow’s murderers. The young crow was named Rory and two of the traitors she also knew by name. One was Bowen Marsh and the other Wick-something. “He was the Lord Commander!”

 

There were others, their blood –soaked daggers still in their hands.

 

“He was a bloody traitor! He betrayed the Watch! He wanted to desert!” Bowen Marsh threw, no hint of regret showing on his round red face.

 

“That was not for you to decide!” Satin, another one of the young crows added. She could see the tears shining under his pretty eyes.

 

There was tension hanging over them. One wrong word and there would be bloodshed. Val wished for it, feeling the boiling blood flushing through her veins.

 

“You have not right to command me, whoreboy!” Wick-something sneered.”And if you take his side you are as much of a traitor as he was!”

 

The traitors kept to themselves, building a circle around their two leaders. Satin and Rory, the young crows didn’t join them and so did several others. Yet there were several men who sided with the traitors.

 

“Put down your weapons, brothers. The traitor is dead and no more blood needs to be shed!” Bowen Marsh tried to convince his fellow brothers, who weren’t pleased with his actions.

 

For Val his life was already forfeit. He may pour out sweet words to curry favor with his brothers, but the Freefolk does not forget the crimes committed against their kind.

 

“Oh, shut your blood mouth, Marsh!” Rory snarled back and unsheathed his blade.

 

“I may not agree with everything Lord Snow did, but he was ten times more worth than you shitty lot! Stabbing a man in the back is a craven’s deed and you will soon join him in the beyond!”

 

Rory, the young crow’s words earned him agreeing calls and shouts, not only among his brothers, but also among the Freefolk.

 

Marsh indeed shut his bloody mouth and went pale as a sheet. It seemed he thought this task much easier than anticipated. After a while the anger seemed to win over the fear and the man raised his own blade.

 

“I heard enough from your fucking Wildings lovers!” he shouted and thus the bloody battle began. It was mess of a fight. The knights belonging to the hairy-mouthed Queen grasped their spears and ushered the woman away to safety.

 

_Cowards._

 

Many of her brothers died that day. Val herself killed one of the traitors with the dagger hidden beneath her dressing. He tried to cut off her head with his sharpened blade, but the tip of her dagger fond his meaty neck, blood sprinkling everywhere.

 

 _Girls see more bood than men_ , the memory came suddenly back to her in that moment. Ygritte once told that to Lord Snow and they had all laughed seeing his stupid face.

 

As the battle continued she moved towards Rory, Satin, Tormund and the other men who were slowly building a defensive circle around Jon Snow’s lifeless body. She allowed herself a brief glimpse on his face. His grey eyes were empty and staring up at the dreary night sky. There was also a huge wound showing on his neck that made the snow hiss every time fresh blood touched the frozen ground.

Ignoring the rattling of steel and the hissing of blood, she leaned down and touched his cheek. His face was cold and frozen. For a moment she feared his eyes might turn blue like the dead man she had once seen, but fortunately they remained grey.

 

Fresh anger welled up inside her and she saw the same emotion reflected in the young crowboy named Rory.

 

“He is gone,” she whispered to herself. _He is gone for good._

 

“Up with you girl!” she heard Tormund’s shout and a pull on her shoulder.”Get him inside! We can’t have him lying here forever!”

 

Val  nodded her head in understanding and grabbed for Jon Snow’s arms.

 

“Haven’t you heard crowboy?” she shouted at Rory.”We have to get him away from here!”

 

The boy’s eyes widened in understanding and soon Satin and others joined them and hoisted Jon Snow’s body from the ground.

 

“The Shieldhall…let us get him to the Shieldhall,” Rory suggested, his brows bloody.

 

“As you say, crowboy,” Val retorted and off they went. They put Lord Snow’s blood-soaked body on one of the large oak table filling the hall.

 

Still bit shaken she touched the wound gracing her neck. The crow who tried to kill her barely graced her skin, but blood was dripping down all over her pelt.

 

“You are bleeding,” Rory remarked, breathless from the effort. His face was slightly flushed and she noticed another cut on his arm.

 

“You are also bleeding, my Lady,” she told him and looked over to Lord Snow. Blood was running and dripping down the table, building an ever growing puddle on the ground.

 

Soon the hall was filled with more men, Freefolk and crows alike. One of them was Soren Shieldbreaker, sporting a bloody cut on his head. She also found Harle the Handsome and Harle the Huntsman, grim and ruffled from the battle. There were many more, but she only felt relief wash over her when she found Tormund returning to her.

 

“The fight is done. The traitors are either dead or captured. Even the kneeler knights came finally down from their hiding,” he explained to her and led his gaze wander over to Jon Snow’s body.

 

“That is a lot of blood,” Tormund remarked grimly before she followed him outside. The ground was still blood-smeared and she found Wun Wun sitting there, tending to his numerous wounds. Arrows littered his strong arms. They looked almost like needles as he continued to slowly pluck them out one after another.

 

 _It takes more than a few crows to kill the likes of him_ , she thought and found one of the hair-mouthed Queen’s knights approaching them.

 

Val tried to recall his name, but her mind failed her. She felt weary and tired and the bloody wound on her neck still dripped with blood. She certainly sported more painful wounds, but it was an annoyance.

 

“The traitors are captured, my Lady,” the man said and dipped his head.

 

Val scoffed at him, not really caring to abide to their southern manners.

 

“Where is Ghost? Lord Snow’s wolf?” she asked instead.

 

The kneeler knight gave her a strange look.” He was all bloody and killed at least a handful of men, before running off. Do not seek him out, my lady. He would only tear you apart. After the incident with Lord Snow the creature turned raging mad.”

 

 _Of course he is_ , she thought and recalled that they called Lord Snow a warg. _Maybe…no…it can’t be._

“There is more my lady. The Queen wishes to speak to you. Would you please accompany me to the tower?”

 

Val had no interest to meet the hairy-faced Queen, but she knew the woman would have one of her kneeler knights drag her there if necessary.

 

“I will come with you, but Tormund comes with me and a handful of other men of my choice.”

 

“Very well, my Lady. Please follow me,” the knight agreed, but didn’t appear very pleased with her demands.

 

The Queen looked shaken by the recent events, but her daughter was worse to look upon. Val felt her skin crawl having this child near her.

 

The only one who seemed unaffected was the Red Witch.

 

“Is it true what they say? Is it true that the Bastard of Bolton murdered my husband?” the Queen asked and shivered visibly.

 

Val didn’t know what to answer. She heard about the Bastard’s letter, but she didn’t know his content.

 

“I don’t know if it is true, but the Bastard’s letter said that he killed your King, holds Mance and wants his bride back. King Crow’s sister.”

 

“King Crow?” the Queen asked and looked rather confused.

 

“He means the Lord Commander,” Val explained, but was confused herself.

 

“Mance is dead. How can he have him?” Tormund asked, but answer was promptly provided by the Red Witch.

 

“The man sacrificed to the Red God was Rattleshirt. Lord Snow knew about it and sent him to retrieve his sister from Bastard’s hands.”

 

The Queen’s eyes widened in shock as she stared back at the Red witch.”Your King would have never agreed to that.”

 

The Red woman gave the other woman a silken smile.”The situation demanded a lie. I knew our King would have never shown him mercy, but it matters not.”

 

“Then tell me.” The Queen demanded agitatedly. Is my husband dead or is the bastard a liar?”

 

The Red witch stepped closer, her ruby eyes shining and her necklace pulsing.

 

“I saw Lord Snow’s enemies lurking in the shadows. I told him and he didn’t listen. I also saw our banner hosted in Winterfell. The crowned stag enclosed with a burning heart…I saw our King returning to us…reborn amidst flames he will return to us,” the Red witch explained and her bloody eyes darted to the Stone Princess.

“Do not fear, my Queen. Our King will return to us, but a sacrifice will be necessary. You know that there is great power in King’s blood. Remember the great sacrifice Azor Ahai to make to defeat his enemy. He tempered his blade in his Lady’s heart. It is only right that we give the Red God and equal sacrifice.”

 

The Stone Princess shivered like a reed under the woman’s gaze.

 

“Sacrifice?” the Queen asked, her voice growing thin and weak.

 

“No,” she continued to stutter and looked over to her daughter.”Your God cannot demand this.”

 

Yet the Red witch seemed unmoved by the woman’s words.

 

“My God demands everything. To witness our Gods strength you have to show faith. The flames do not lie. The fate of destruction is the joy of rebirth.”

 

“But why her? I am his wife? I can be his Nissa Nissa,” the Queen asked, despair ringing in her voice.

 

“You have no King’s blood, my lady. You are not his most beloved. It doesn’t have t to be a wife, but the most precious that needs to be sacrificed,” the Red witch demanded, her eyes alight like flames.

 

At first Val didn’t understand, but now she understood as she saw the shocked expressions show on the Queen’s men faces.

 

Val herself once told Lord Snow that it would be better for the girl to be killed, but now she felt the hint of pity weakening her heart.

 

_I meant a kinder death. Not feeding her to the flames like the mad woman suggests._

Yet when she saw the hard look take hold on the Queen’s face she knew the girl would die.

 

It was a look she had seen before. Life was hard for the Freefolk and it was not out of the question that old ones went to die to allow the younger ones to be fed a day longer.

 

“Your heard the lady,” the Queen declared, but Val saw how her lips trembled as she commanded her kneeler knights.

 

Half of them looked sick and the other half unwilling.

 

“My Queen, our King commanded us to protect the Princess. He commanded us to put a crown upon her head should he die. I don’t think he would want us to go against this wishes.”

 

The Queen’s lips trembled, but the Red witch’s piercing eyes seemed to have more influence on the woman than the reasonable words of the man.

 

“You have to show faith in our God, my Queen. He demands much of us, but it won’t be without merit.”

 

The Queen dropped her head in acceptance and repeated her command.”You heard the Lady. A pyre is needed.”

 

The man paled visibly.”My Queen…,” he stuttered, but the Queen repeated her command with grim determination.

 

“Do as the Lady commands, or do you wish to die a traitor’s death…does anyone of you wish to die a traitor’s death?”

 

The knight didn’t speak again, but it was another one who pulled the Stone Princess along.

 

“Mother! Mother!” she screamed and struggled,  the Queen didn’t look at her.

 

The Red witch seemed satisfied and turned to Val, who didn’t know what to do.

 

“We should also give Lord Snow to the fire,” she began, but Val cut her off.

 

“So you wish to burn an innocent girl? And for what? If your King is dead he won’t come back by burning a child? I have no understanding of your God, but if he was so mighty he would bring your King back without such a sacrifice. Lord Snow will be burned, but not by your hands. He is one of us, but if you touch him I will cut off your hands. This I swear,” she snarled at the woman and fiddled for her hidden dagger.

 

“I think it is time for you to leave, Lady Val,” the Queen remarked coldly.”This is none of your business.”

 

“If Lord Snow was alive he would throw you from the Wall for even suggesting this folly…!” she snapped, but one of the knights stepped towards her and grabbed her arm.

 

“Leave and burn Lord Snow. Let us tend to our own,” the Queen said at last and Val knew that was all she would get. They would put them all to the sword if they tried stopping them. They were all under the madwoman’s thrall.

 

Angrily she pulled herself free and left in company of Tormund.

 

“So what are we to do now?” he asked.

 

Val shrugged her shoulders, the sorrow and pain washing over her. She suppressed it through all of it, but now she felt overwhelmed.

 

“King Crow needs a pyre,” was all she managed to reply.


	2. The Wolf

He tasted the blood in his mouth and heard the crunching of the snow beneath his four paws. It was the taste of men. The taste of his brother’s lifeblood.

 _I killed them_ , he recalled vaguely and started to lick his own wounds. I killed them like they killed me.

 It gave him no satisfaction. Hate was burning him like a hot flame.

_Revenge. That is what I need._

Fear filled him when he returned to the courtyard. He died here. He recalled the daggers and the cold rendering his body numb.

 _I am still here_ , he reminded himself.

Yet those were not his thoughts alone. There was another presence.

 _Ghost_ , he thought, but didn’t know where the name came from. Ghost was a wolf and his thoughts were different from the thoughts of humans. More preoccupied with the prey he spotted in the woods hours ago than thoughts of titles, crowns and wars.

How easy it could be to loose oneself to this life. He could hunt and be free.

It was tempting, but the recalled then he recalled the face of a girl. Long and pale like…like his own face.

 _Arya_ , the name came back to him like the flicker of a candle against the darkness. His memory was fading and Ghost’s thoughts seemed to leak into his own, slowly merging with each other. Still he found himself clinging to this name. He feared to let go.

_What will I be? A wolf or a man?_

He forced himself to remember the girl. He tried to find a memory of the girl’s smile. How the dimples showed on her lips when she smiled.

 _Stick them with the pointy end_ , he heard her words and laughter. _Stick them with the pointy end._

The memory was so sweet it made his heart ache with a deep pain.

 _I wanted to safe her_ , he recalled suddenly and moved forward. The smell of sweat and blood filled his nose. _My little sister._

He looked to the sky, all bloody and glowing with a few distant stars.

_How long since I died?_

He followed the smell and found the human-made Wall looming above him like a dark shadow.

_I came here to serve and they killed me._

Again he smelt the tears, the sweat and the blood. Death came to this place.

There he also found the humans assembled and standing around two heaps of wood.

At first he believed it to be the cries of an animal that pierced the air, but then he smelled the burned flesh of a human.

It were the cries of a girl. A human girl.

The humans were unaware of his presence as he moved closer. He saw their pale faces and the horror displayed there.

The cries cut deeper than a sword.

 _Why_ , he asked and watched the girl being swallowed by the flames.

A wolf might tear his enemy’s neck, but humans had far worse ways to kill their own.

The silence afterwards was even worse than the girl’s cries. Empty he started in the distance, spotting a familiar woman. Dressed in red silk she was whispering to the flames.

_A prayer for the dead._

Then he found another woman. She was also vaguely familiar to him.

Her fine-shaped face was pale as snow and her eyes were brimming with tears.

He knew her, but he was unable to find the memory he wanted.

It was not as clear as the memory of his little sister. _Arya._

He watched the woman take a torch from another man’s hand, before moving towards the still untouched pyre.

A familiar smell came from this heap of wood. Cold and dead, but still familiar to him.

The memory hit him like thunder.

_Jon Snow. The boy I once was. Jon Snow._

_His head started to throb with pain, but he needed to see._

He watched heard the people’s whisper.

“And now his watch has ended!”

He watched and watched as the flames grew higher and his body was slowly swallowed by the flames.

Even from the distance he felt the sting on his skin.

He felt the warmth spreading over his body, filling and changing him.

_Kill the boy! Kill the boy and let the man be born!_

He forgot who told him this, but Jon Snow once knew the meaning of these words.

Slowly, stinging sensation grew worse and made him brim with pain.

It was as clear as the daggers that pierced his heart.

 _I am Jon Snow_ , he remembered. I feel the fire on my skin.

 _I am Jon Snow_ , he thought and closed his eyes, becoming blind to the world.

He was no longer a wolf, but something else.

He stumbled through the darkness, helpless like a little babe, searching and hoping to find a familiar soul.

Yet he found no humans, but only stone faces staring at him through the darkness. Some of them held swords and others had direwolves perched beneath their feet.

The crypts of Winterfell. It was not the first time he dreamed of them.

_Maybe I am truly dead now? Maybe I will see father again? Or Robb? Or Ygritte?_

Yet he found none, only darkness

Everybody left him.

Not knowing what to do with himself, he continued to walk until he found another room.

It was a long hall and trestle tables stood erected. Everywhere he found the dead littering the ground.

Some of their faces were familiar to Jon. Men who once sat at his father’s table.

Men who were butchered as the music played.

The song was like a death song to him, but the worst was the sight of the King in the high seat.

His body was littered with wounds and his head unfitting for the body beneath.

A King with a wolfhead and a bloody crown.

He knew then who the King was. _Robb and Greywind._

He averted his gaze from the horrible sight only to find the weasel-faced men smile as they continued their butchery.

_I should have been there. I should have protected you. I was a fool._

_Please forgive me! Please make it end!_

_Tears burned on his cheeks and the pain was almost unbearable._

“Then return!” a familiar voice called out to him. It was the voice of someone he loved once and he desperately searched for it’s source.”Please come back! Jon!”

He knew it then as he found a crow observing him from her hiding place on a chandelier. It was a crow with three dark eyes; a crow with the beloved voice of his brother.

“Bran!” he called out.”Is that you?”

“Brother!” the raven croaked.”You have to leave this place. It is not fit for you. You were lost and now I found you again!”

“Return!” the raven repeated and a swirl of dark feathers made the world blur around him.

The pain returned to him as he woke and the pale sunlight falling through the windows made him wince.

His body felt heavy and his wounds ached.

“Careful,” somebody whispered softly and the cool touch of a hand touched his temple.

He opened his heavy eyes and found the woman from his dream. Golden-haired and blue-eyed. Her name was sweet on his mouth.

 “Val,” he whispered his voice strained and distant.

”I am alive,” he continued, unbelieving and filled with pain.

She smiled down at him, eyes wet with tears.

“Yes, you are,” she confirmed and touched his cheek.”You are warm, hot even. You are alive Lord Snow.”

He winced at hearing the mocking title Ser Alliser once gave him.

_Lord Snow. Eddard Stark´s bastard._

He grasped her hand, feeling the warmth on her skin.

He remembered then and everything came back to him at once.

_Arya. The letter. The Bastard of Bolton._

“What happened? How did I return?” he asked.

Val nodded her head, fresh tears brimming in her eyes.

“The Red Witch…she burned the Stone Princess. She thought her King would come back to her if she sacrificed the poor girl…,”

_Gods, so it was no mere dream._

He started to shudder and emptied his stomach on the floor.

He felt the cool air on his skin and realized that he was naked under his blanket. With a trembling hand he touched his chest and realized that his wounds turned into scars.

They were closed and a terrible foreboding filled him.

He turned back to Val, grey eyes wide.

“How did I come back?” he demanded to know.”Tell me!”

Val grasped his shoulder to keep him still and moved closer.

“We burned you…the flames devoured you, but you didn’t burn. Your wounds were gone and your body warm. I don’t know what the Red witch did, but it was you who came back,” she explained shakily. He never saw her this frightened.

“Where is the witch?” he demanded to know.

Val shuddered visibly, but gave him the answer he needed.

“Watching her flames…in the King’s Tower.”

Not hesitating he rose to his feet and started to search for something resembling clothing.

“There,” Val offered and pointed at the bundle of clothes on the table.

He had no strength to thank her and dressed quickly, before starting his search for his sword.

“Here,” she said and handed him his sword. He gave her a thankful nod and continued his questioning.”Where is the Queen?”

“Dead…these fools waited for days…for their King’s return, but he never came. We found her hanging in the King´s Tower. She killed herself.”

He heard enough and stepped outside.

He found her dressed in her scarlet silk and watching her flames.

Her ruby eyes widened at his sudden appearance.

“Lord Snow,” she said and looked almost afraid.

 “You killed a girl!” he snarled.”A girl of ten!”

He unsheathed his blade and moved towards her.

“You murdered her!”

The witch didn´t move, despite the weapon directed at her.

“So it is true…I was wrong,” she admitted quietly.”I didn´t realize what the flames were showing me. I saw a King reborn through the flames, but now I only see snow.”

He shivered again. He wanted nothing more than to drive the blade home. He hoped it would wash away the guilt.

“But I am no King!” was the only thing he could manage.”The girl died in vain!”

“You are wrong,” she whispered and stepped closer.”Kill me if you wish, Lord Snow. I came to Westeros to serve my god to find the man to deliver us from the darkness. I thought Stannis was this man, but I was wrong. He didn´t come back, but you did. The girl may have died for you, but it was my god’s will. We are all his tools …even you Lord Snow.”

The last words were enough to rekindle his anger. _Damn your god._

 _The girl died for me_ , he thought and he drove the blade home.

It was so easy. The blade pierced the Red witch’s heart, but her gaze was firmly fixed on him.

Warm blood pooled beneath her feet, but she only smiled. It was peaceful smile.

Then she touched her ruby necklace and her once unblemished face withered away. Her skin and limps turned gnarled like the bark of an old tree, her once lustrous hair turned white like spindles and her toothless smile made his skin crawl.

He pulled the blade free and tried to compose himself.

He hoped to find satisfaction in the deed, but in the end he found none.

As a wolf he had hungered for blood and vengeance, but now he realized that anger was like a deep abyss.

Will he ever be able to fill it?

…


	3. Alayne

Again she felt the pull on her dress and heard the chirping voice of her cousin.

“Alayne…Alayne…will you read me another story?”

Alayne sighed and straightened her dress. Then she leaned down and placed a soft kiss on the boy’s cheek. It was still early and the pale morning light bathed the little lord’s chambers in a sheen of golden light. It was not the first time that she spent the whole night taking care of the little lord. It has been like this since she came here to live in her Aunt’s household.

“Please…one about the Winged Knights…or about other knights…I like knights!” the boy pleaded again. _Once I liked them too and wanted nothing more than to wed one. I thought Joff was this knight, but I was wrong._

 _I should have listened to father, but I was a silly girl. Never again._ This she swore to herself on the day she left King’s Landing behind her. _Never again will I be a piece in their games._

 _But you are_ , the quiet voice in her head whispered, but she brushed it away. _Lord Baelish saved me!_

“Alayne!” the little lord chirped again and nearly tore off her shawl.”What is wrong with you? You are so different today?”

It was true what he said and she knew why. Today was the tourney to name the knights that will serve as her cousin’s personal guard. _The Brotherhood of the Winged Knights._

“Forgive me, your lordship,” she apologized sweetly and touched his soft hair.”I am just excited for the tourney. It will be grand to see real knights instead of reading about them in books.”

The small lord scrunched his face and she immediately realized her mistake. Anything, not matter how vague about Harry, upset the little lord.

“I hope somebody throws my cousin from his horse! He is mean and wants me dead!” he declared angrily and started to shiver. Trying to calm him she smoothed his messy hair.

“I told you before that Harry loves you well, your lordship. Besides, I would be very angry with him if he ever tried to harm you,” she whispered to him softly and it really seemed to work for the shivering stopped. _I won a small victory._

“I still don’t want him to marry you!” he insisted and grasped her hand between his tiny fingers.”If I was a knight I could ride a horse and give you a crown of flowers like in the tales. Then I would throw Harry from his horse and laugh at him.”

“And you will, but for a trueborn lady of noble stock,” she assured him, but knew that it was a lie. _He will never ride a horse. He will never joust. He might not even see his tenth nameday._

“I don’t want a trueborn lady of noble stock,” he declared loudly and she feared another impending fit, but it was Maester Colemon who came to see the little lord and interrupted their conversation.

He was a thin and nervous man who had far too little hair upon his head. Alayne was relieved by his appearance, because it meant that she will finally be able to slip away. She had her dress prepared, but her hair still needed work.

“Greetings to you, Maester,” she said and granted the man a bright smile. The man’s long narrow face lightened up like a candle and he nearly stumbled over the carpet. It was not the first time that it happened, but the last time it was Randa’s fault or better said her quite revealing cleavage. The lady loved her wide-cut dresses and had the right proportions to support her choice of clothing.

Alayne herself was steadily growing into a woman, but she doubted that she will ever be as shapely as Myranda Royce.  _I am more build like my Lady mother._

“Greetings to you, Lady Alayne and your Lordships,” he answered.”I hope you had a restive night?” the Maester inquired politely and started to prepare her cousin’s morning tea. It was a sweat tea that helped him grow stronger or so the Maester and Lord Baelish insisted, but Alayne found not improvement. The boy was still pale, weak and prone to sickness.

“His lordship slept through the whole night,” she answered for the little lord and received an acknowledging nod from the Maester.

“I see,” the Maester said and went to work. Alayne remained until he was finished, because the little lord only allowed her to feed him the tea and the porridge he liked to eat every morning.

Done with her work she fled from her cousin’s chamber and made her way down the long hall. It was still quiet and only the servants were rushing through the halls. They looked busy with the preparations for the upcoming tourney.

Only eight knights will be chosen from the four-and-sixty knights competing for the position. These competitors came from all over the Vale. Most of them were eager young men who wanted to prove their mettle in battle. The fact that the Vale was one of the few kingdoms unaffected by the War of the Five Kings only added to the enthusiasm among the young men.

 _Young men are fools and they are in need to show their prowess_ , she knew and recalled young Ser Loras and how gallant and quick he was. It felt almost like a distant dream to her now. _Harry is one of those fools, but I need to win him over or I will never be able to go home_ , she told herself and found her dress spread out on her untouched bed.

It was a silken dress, blue and bright like a summer sky and embroidered with white pearls from Gulltown. It was a simple dress, but her best work. The silver necklace with the blue diamonds she chose was perfect in combination with the white flowers wanted to use for her hair. She wasn’t surprised when she found them already waiting for her in a wooden basket. Mya Stone was always helpful when she was distracted from her duties towards her cousin.

 _I will thank her later_ , she mused and twirled one of the white flowers between her fingers. They smelled fresh and reminiscent of spring. Sadness washed over her again, but she banished those feelings away and started to unbraid her hair. Moments later one of her ladies came and helped her prepare. She braided her hair into a delicate braid that was wound around her head and covered with a delicate hairnet of silver. Then came her dress and at last she reddened her lips and had the girl arrange the flowers in her hair.

“You looked lovely, my Lady,” the girl chirped and Sansa gave her a thankful smile.”Thank you, but it is only due to your hard work, Gretchen.”

The girl curtsied and moved back to the door, but Alayne called after her before she could slip away.

“Gretchen…could you go and thank Lady Mya for her kind help with the flowers?” she asked the girl who bobbed her head in understanding.

“Of course, my Lady.”

Satisfied with her work she made her way down and to the Great Hall that was slowly filling with guests. Many of those lords were already familiar to her. Lost in conversation she spotted Lord Nestor Royce, the Keeper of the Gates of the Moon and Randa’s father. He was a massive man, all barrel-chested and grey-bearded.

 _Like all of the Royce men_ , she knew and recalled the Bronze Yohn. He was one of the lords still adamant to depose Lord Baelish from his position. He was also the reason that Lord Nestor was granted the lordship of the Gates of the Moon through Lord Baelish’s fiddling. _To buy his loyalty._

Yet he was not the only one under Lord Baelish’s thrall. Lady Waynwood also obligated to Lord Baelish as he supposedly bought up her family’s debts. _It is the only reason she even considers a marriage with a bastard like Alayne Stone._

Then there were Lord Belmore and Ser Symond Tempelton. Both men demanded Lord Baelish’s removal, but now they were here, mixing among the guests. To her they appeared like spiders caught in Lord Baelish’s net.

“There you are Alayne!” Randa called out to her and flashed a disarming smile at her. She was dressed in velvet silk and a shiny necklace of silver showed on her full bosom.”Mya told me the little Lord Arryn kept you up all night. Your father should really find another lady to serve our little lord. How are you going to win Harry’s favour if you find no sleep?”

Alayne knew she was only jesting and gave her an amused smile.”My father tried, but the little lord likes me best. Every attempt ended in another fit, so we gave up.”

Randa smiled and pulled her aside.”Well, I hope for you that you won’t find the little lord crawling into your wedding bed. Not a very pleasant thought.”

Alayne couldn’t help, but to giggle. The girl had a filthy mouth, but never failed to make her smile.

“At least my husband will make it through the bedding!” she japed and Randa howled with laughter. At first she doubted the truth about the tale, but even Lord Baelish assured her that it was true. Lady Randa’s husband died during the act. Not that the Lady seemed to mind that much.

 _He was comely and old_ , she had told her when Alayne dared to ask her about her late husband, but in the end she was too afraid to ask about the details. She always felt like a blushing maid when the other girl talked about such things.

“Such sharp words from you today, Alayne!” the girl teased and gently slapped her shoulder.”Well, today is your grand day, isn’t it?” she asked and for a brief moment Alayne heard a hint of jealousy ringing in the girl’s voice. She was not sure if it was the tone of Randa’s voice or the way her smile didn’t fully reach her face, but something was amiss.

“I danced with him last night, but I am not sure if he really likes me. Yet he asked me for my favour,” she explained, hoping this will help to distract herself from her fears. _I am becoming more and more like Lord Baelish. I am seeing enemies even among friends…_

“Truly, he asked for your favor?” Randa asked full.

Alayne nodded and leaned closer to whisper into her ear.”He did, but I refused him. He was so full of himself that I told him I gave it to someone else. I hoped it would make him jealous of his potential competitor. Sadly, I still have to find this other competitor.”

“Oh, if that is your only problem…I think I can help with that,” Randa offered and pulled her along to the gallery. Together they descended the stairs and made their way to the inner ward where the jousting competition will be held.

At the other end of the yard she found the quintains and several knights training for the impending tilt. There was Mychel Redfort, one of the favored champions. Riding next to him was Ser Roland Waynwood, Lady Waynwood’s grandson. He was not as handsome as Mychel Redfort, but a good rider, all nimble and quick to understand the needs of the animal.

 _Like Arya_. The thought came like a flash of light and made her feel sick. _Your sister is half a horse_ , the stable master had always gushed about her little sister.

Brushing those thoughts away she let her gaze sweep over to the place where the knights were training with their blunted swords. The one practicing was again Ser Lyn Corbrey. He was a handsome man, but also vain, reckless and hot-tempered. Alayne first met him when he accompanied of the Lord Declarants’ to depose Lord Baelish from from power. He even dared to raise a blade and a fight was only avoided due to the Bronze Yohn’s calming words.

Now she knew better _._ It was a mummer’s play staged by Lord Baelish, though she wondered in which way he bought his loyalty. Lord Baelish often gave her hints, but in regards to Ser Corbrey he left her in the dark. She only knew that Lord Baelish arranged a marriage for his brother with a rich merchant daughter in Gulltown. His first wife only gave his brother sickly children that died young and the merchant’ daughter was now swelling with the expected heir. She also recalled the chilled smile he gave Randa when she wished his brother’s bride a lucky birth. All those considerations send her head spinning, but it was Randa’s clap on the shoulder that brought her back to the present.

“There…enough knights for you to choose from,” she told her and directed her gaze back to the quintains.”I would choose Ser Ronald Waynwood. He and Harry grew up together. I heard they are like two quarreling brothers. He is also quite comely. Harry will be wounded in his manly pride if you give him your favor.”

Alayne nodded and gathered her courage. Mustering a smile she walked over to the quintains and winked at the knight.

“You are riding as gallant as ever, Ser Roland!” Randa called out and grinned from one ear to the other. The young man led his horse over to them and pulled his visor down, before granting them each a smile.

“I thank you, my Lady,” he replied and climbed from his horse.”I hope my training will prove fruitful today.”

“I am sure you will be successful in your endeavor, good Sir,” Alayne offered kindly and fiddled for the handkerchief she kept hidden in the pocket of her cloak.

“I hope so, my Lady,” he confirmed and gave them each a curious look.”Can I be of service to you?”

Randa giggled and put a hand on his shoulder.

”Oh, that you can, good Sir!” she said and pulled him closer to whisper in his ear.

His eyes widened and he nodded in understanding as the girl explained their little scheme.

“Would you be so kind to help us?” Randa asked at last and flashed him the sweetest of smiles. It was like running honey and enough to make a man weak like pudding. Alayne wished she had the same abilities, though she was not completely hopeless in that regard as she proved yesterday. _He asked me for my favor._

 _Learn and watch_ , she told herself and mustered a sweet smile for the knight.

”I know it sounds quite silly, but we would be very…very thankful for your help, good Sir,” she asked and touched his other arm.

He blushed and granted her a quick smile.”Your plan is a wicked, but I agree. It will be my joy to aide you in this mummer’s play of yours, my ladies.”

Alayne felt relief wash over her and handed him the embroidered handkerchief.”I thank you again, good Sir. I will not forget your kindness.”

He gave her a thankful smile and bowed.

”I am honored to receive your favor, my Lady. I will not fail to relay your deed to Harry.”

Randa grinned like a mix and clapped her hands together.

”Now all you need to do is look pretty and smile,” she assured Alayne and pulled her along.

“I hope I will be pleasing enough,” she replied vaguely.”But even if the plan were to fail…I thank you for helping me, Randa. You are a true friend.”

The girl pulled her closer and kissed her cheek.

”That is so. We are friends.”

Relieved she departed from her friend to seek out Lord Baelish. Like every morning she found him studying his correspondence. He was always doing something, reading or writing. She knew he was setting his plans into motion while the rest of the world slept, but it was also one of these schemes that finally rid her off Joff.

 _He loved my Lady mother dearly_ , she reminded herself again and granted the man she called “father” a smile. She knew that it wasn’t true, but often it felt like her real father died a lifetime ago. Even his face grew more and more blurred as did her old life. Her Lady mother’s face was easier to remember as she only had to take a glimpse into the looking glass.

 _You have her eyes, her nose, her mouth, her lips._ That is what Lord Baelish told her whenever he found himself in one of his melancholic moods. Then often kissed her cheek in what she assumed was meant as a fatherly gesture, but it always left her with an uncomfortable feeling.

“There you are my sweet girl!” he called out and put the stack of letters away.”What a sight to behold!” he added and rose from his seat to gather her up in a tight embrace.

Slipping out of his embrace she granted him a feigned smile.

”I hope it pleases you, father.”

“I does. I am sure the crown will be yours,” he explained and her heartbeat sped up when she heard that. Yet she stopped the thoughts before they could go too far. _My Aunt was once crowned and then she ended up raped and murdered. Don’t be a silly girl._

“I hope so, father.”

He he gently touched her shoulder and hair. The touch made her shiver, but she didn’t dare to refuse him.

“Harry would be a fool to shun you.”

 

...

The lances splintered and the crowd cheered. The thunder of horse hooves made the tiltyard sing, but Alayne hardly managed a smile. The tourney was grand, not doubt that, but it reminded her of another tourney…a long time ago when her true father still was still alive.

It was no surprise to her that Ser Redfort won himself entrance in the semi-final. He was a gifted rider, but she believed Ser Roland to be the better one.

Like Ser Loras had been at the Tourney of the Hand, but that didn’t help him when the Mountain felled his horse. It was the Hound who saved him that day which made her wonder what happened to the man after the Battle of Blackwater. The memory from that horrible night was almost hazy and distant. _He was drunk and wanted me to sing for him like a bird_ , she recalled and shivered as the thunder of horse hooves called her attention back to the present.

Ser Redfort’s tilt against Ser Roland Waynwood was the final match before the victor will face Harry. At first she believed him to be the “upjumped squire” Lothor Brune once called him, but she was proven wrong. Harry the Ass was only a passable rider, but a great jouster.

Yet it didn’t change that he was a man of lacking manners and graced with several bastard children. Ser Roland once japed that his cousin wants to outdo the Viper of Dorne and Randa had slapped him for that comment. Not that Alayne minded the man’s comment, but she was thankful for her friend’s courtesy.

_I am a bastard myself now. How can I look down on my own kind?_

Pondering her status as bastard, she suddenly recalled her Lady mother. She was sure that she wouldn’t be pleased with a man like Harry. She always disliked the presence of her bastard brother Jon Snow. Even Sansa avoided it to treat him like a real brother, but now everything felt different.

 _It would be sweet to see him again_. That was the first thing that came to her mind when she heard that he was named Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch _._

 _Maybe one day I can visit him and ask him for forgiveness,_ she hoped, but knew that it was a distant dream. _First I have to wed and then I will be able to go home._

Again the wooden lances splintered, but both men remained seated. Again the two knights rushed at each other, but Ser Redfort received a hard blow to the shoulder and was sent rolling in the mud.

Clumsy like a young foal he pulled himself back to his feet, but the winner of the last semi-final was finally decided and received loud cheers from the crowd.

“Now…!” Randa Royce whispered to her and Alayne held her breath. Silently she prayed for Harry’s victory.

_He will give me the crown and then he will think himself sure of my heart. Then he will be mine. Then we can wed. Then I can finally go home._

Both riders crashed three times and three times they remained seated. She saw the sweat shining on their brows when their squires sprinkled cold water over their heads. Winter was coming, but she knew from Ser Roderik that the armor of a knight could be quite stifling.

New lances were placed in the competitor’s hands and her heart threatened to jump out of her breast when the lances clashed and Harry remained half-seated in the saddle. She saw his labored breathing and how he clung to his horse. _That was close…_

She saw Ser Roland throw a taunting comment at Harry which was enough to bring the young man back to action. It seems Randa was right. They are really like quarreling brothers. She also knew that Ser Roland was vying for Lady Randa’s heart, but Harry didn’t know that.

“What is he doing?” Randa complained to her.”I told him to make sure that your Harry wins the tilt!”

Alayne’s heart swelled with warmth for Randa. _She is a true friend. I misjudged her._

She squeezed the other girl’s hand.”It matters not, but I thank you for your kindness.”

The girl gave her a quiet nod and turned her attention back to the two riders.

Alayne prayed and hoped, but it was Harry the Ass who kissed the dirt.

The crowed cheered and the squires came forward to help him back to his feet. She was utterly disappointed, but when he didn’t move she felt a hint of worry. _Don’t be a stupid girl_ , the quiet voice in her head warned and she hardened her softening heart. _No. I made that mistake with Joff._

Still shaky the Harry was led to the sides and Ser Roland remained as the grand victor of the tourney. A crown of red roses was laid into his lap and he rode another round, bathing in the cheers of the crowd. The squires envied him and even the ladies momentarily forgot about his homely face.   _His horse face_ , like Randa Royce liked to jape.

 _Arya Horseface_. That is what she had called her little sister, but now she wished for nothing more than to see her again. She would roll with laughter if she told her about Harry the Ass and admire the knights for their strength. She would probably try to steal away some armor and dress herself up as a hedge knight. _Now that will never be._

It was the pull of Randa’s hand on her arm that brought her back to the present.

“Alayne! Alayne!” she called out with a strangely strained voice.”Your crown!”

 _My crown_ , she wondered and when she looked up she found Ser Roland grinning back at her. He threw the small wraith of red roses in her lap before turning back to the crowd.

”The Queen of Love and Beauty!” he declared loudly.

“The Queen of Love and Beauty!” it echoed in her ears, but she could find no pleasure in it. _It was not meant to be like that,_ she thought _. Now I will never go home._

As demanded of her she placed the roses on her head and smiled sweetly. It filled her with even more dread and she felt tears blooming in her eyes.

Nobody noticed that those were tears of sadness.

Later at the feast she kept smiling. Ser Roland even danced with her, but felt no joy. Even Randa seemed strangely distant towards Alayne after Harry refused to dance with her.

 _Something is wrong_ , she knew, but didn’t dare to ask. She ate and drank, but even the lemon cake failed to soothe her. Weary she let her gaze sweep through the room. The eight champions were crowned with silver feathers and and in high spirits. Harry was among them, but he looked grim and unhappy.

 _He hates me now_ , she was sure. _He didn’t even speak with me or ask me to dance._

So she danced with all the others who asked her. Ser Corbray, Ser Nestor Royce and even the stuttering Ser Wallace Waynwood dared to ask her. He was red like a lobster when she sat back to rest. She didn’t know why, but the dancing calmed her and filled her heart with a little light.

“You look sad, my Lady,” someone asked her and snapped her out of her thoughts. It was Ser Shadrich, one of her Lord Baelish’s hired hedge knights. He was a fox-faced man and so short of height that she thought him a boy when she first laid eyes on him. Only his hard face revealed his true age.

She still undecided if she liked him. He always japed with her when they spoke, but she also found him staring at her in time. _He is just admiring your beauty_ , Randa had told her.

“I am well, good Ser. I do no know why you think me sad,” she replied politely.

“I am a man wide-travelled. I know a sad maid when I see one,” he explained and offered his hand to her.”But I saw you smile when you danced with Ser Wallace. Mayhaps another dance would bring a smile back to your lips, my Lady?”

She wanted to refuse, but it was hard when he asked her so kindly.

“I would be honored,” she replied and took his hand. Quickly they slipped into a dance and he continued their conversation.

“You have pretty eyes,” he remarked after a while when they stopped to change direction.”Blue like the summer sky. I am sure your mother was a true beauty.”

”She was,” she replied vaguely.

“But your hair,” he added and smiled down at her queerly.”I think red would fit you better.”

The remark nearly made her heart freeze. _Red hair?_   _It can’t be!_

 Breathing deeply she met his gaze directly. _I can’t show fear._

“What do you want from me?”

“I am a friend, my Lady. A friend of the Blackfish.”

“He is a prisoner of the Freys,” she whispered back, barely able to speak properly. She nearly stepped on his his feet and the music was now nothing more than a distant echo in her ears.

“He is not…he escaped the butchery and is currently defending Riverrun against the Frey Lords.”

Hope bloomed in my heart. _My Grand uncle, my family_.

She never met him, but she was sure that he was different than her Aunt Lysa. He had to be kinder, more like Lady mother.

Steadying her breath she straightened herself and gave him a false smile.

_I have to be careful. Lord Baelish can’t know about this._

“Is that really true?”

He nodded and squeezed her hand.”Mayhaps you care for a walk, my Lady?”

She was hesitant, but needed to know more. Hesitatingly she pulled the man along and together they slipped out of the Great Hall.

“Now tell me,” she demanded impatiently.”Did my Grand Uncle truly send you to find me?”

”Why would I lie about such a thing? How else would I know about your appearance?”

“But Lord Baelish never told me anything about the Blackfish’s escape,” she countered, but the man only laughed.

“And why would he?” he asked.”He wants to keep you here.”

“Yes, to keep me save.”

“To keep you save?” he asked as if that was the strangest thing he heard all day.”He wants to have you. You are the replacement for your Lady mother and nothing more. The Lady he desired and couldn’t have.”

“He loved her…but he would never,” she protested, but then she remembered the kisses and all of it made even more sense.”I am not his daughter…I am not his blood…I am…,” she stuttered, but her voice failed her.

“I know who you are…Sansa Stark…trueborn daughter of Eddard Stark. The blood of Winterfell,” the hedge knight offered.

 _I am Alayne Stone_ , she wanted to tell him, but it was another lie Lord Baelish made up.

 _How many of such lies did he tell me_ , she wondered. _Why didn’t he tell my about my Grand Uncle?_

Spurred on by this realization she turned back to the hedge knight.

”So you came here to find me?”

He gave her a sweet smile and bowed his head.

”That is why I am here, but if you want to leave…it has to be tonight.”

 _Tonight_ , she whispered to herself.”No…it would be too dangerous. They would find us.”

“They are all drunk and celebrating. I have been preparing this escape for weeks, my Lady.”

She was stunned by his words, but what did it matter. _Harry will never wed me and Lord Baelish will never let me go. If I stay I will remain his pet and one day he might do more than just kissing…_

“I will come with you,” she told him at last and saw satisfaction wash over his face.”I will come with you.”

 _I am going home_ , she told herself as the short knight pulled her along. _I am going home._

The smell of horses and hay filled her nostrils when they stepped into the deserted stables. Even the stable boys were celebrating and drunk on their wine.

 _The perfect day to escape_ , he had told her, but it turned out to be another lie.

She knew it when he grabbed her arm. His grip was too tight and suddenly she had a sharp blade gracing her neck.

All her hope turned to ash. _Foolish girl…_

“Quiet…I don’t want to hurt you…your head is more worth if you are alive,” he whispered and pulled her along. She didn’t dare to cry out.

 _I have to get away_ , she told herself.

“Who sent you…?” she asked and hoped it will buy her more time. She knew he was a talker and he appeared slightly drunk. _Maybe I can find a way to escape. I have to try at least._

”The Spider,” he answered and smirked.”He tasked me to find you, but the Queen grows more and more desperate these days. She will shower me with gold if I give her the murderer of her son.”

“I didn’t kill Joff!” it escaped her.”I didn’t kill him!”

He covered her mouth with his hand.”Hush, I know that, sweet child. It was Littlefinger. The Spider told me everything. I pity you, sweet child. It is cruel how Littlefinger played you…how he had your father killed.”

”Joff murdered my father!” she muttered her protests against his mouth.

“He did, but it was Littefinger who bought the Gold Cloaks and it was him who whispered into Joffrey’s ears to your father’s head. I know it all, because the Spider told me. He and Littlefinger are rivals. They like to play their games with each other and you are just another piece.”

In that moment she stopped caring about the blade resting on her neck. Despair overwhelmed her.

_All this time. He used me…he killed my father._

Tears spilled over her cheeks and she bit her lips too tightly, drawing forth blood.

With all her strength she grabbed the blade and pulled hard. The sharp steel buried itself into her fingers, but the pain was nothing compared to the pain in her heart.

She pulled and twisted. She kicked and one of her bloody hands grabbed a fist of red hair.

She imagined Joff’s ugly grimace and yanked until until he man yelped in pain, pulling her hair in return. Then with one last burst of strength she twisted the blade around and buried it in the man’s neck.

A gurgle was the last she heard before the man died.

Tattered and bloody she ran back outside and collapsed.

 …


	4. Val

The traitors were to be executed in the morning. A dreary sky spread over the horizon and fresh snowflakes swirled around them as Val and the others of the Free folk assembled to see them die. It was no surprise to her since several men of their people were hurt by the traitor’s hands. Even the Queen’s men crawled out of their holes to behold the bloody spectacle.

Lord Snow had avoided their presence and spent the whole night in company of his wolf, but she doubted it was enough to soothe his simmering pain.

 _He is so different_ , she thought. _Angry, bitter and broken._

She knew that he killed the Red Witch and it surprised her that the Queen’s men accepted this without asking further questions. It seems the burning of the Stone Princess shook them in their Faith.

Finally, Lord Snow appeared. He was still dressed in the clothes she gave to him yesterday. All in black again, but when she looked into his eyes she no longer believed him to be a crow.

“Everything is prepared, Lord Commander,” Satin greeted him with a small smile, but there was no reaction showing on Lord Snow’s face. It was grim and appeared frozen like ice.

“Good,” he replied.”But stop calling me Lord Commander. My watch is over.”

Then he stepped towards the large wooden pedestal where several gallows had been erected. The loops were already placed around the traitor’s heads, but it surprised her that he didn’t make it quick and just used his blade like he did with the fat one that refused to obey his orders.

 “Speak your last words!” he told the men who were all frozen in shock and fear at his appearance.

Marsh was pale like a sheet of parchment, his cheeks blue and bruised. Tormund told her that he struggled so much that they had to beat him unconscious to drag him into the ice cells.

“You should be dead! Dead!”

“It seems the gods have other plans for me,” he returned coldly and moved on to the next man.

It was Wick-something who spit on Lord Snow’s boots.”Fuck you and your Wildlings!”

The next man had tears in his eyes as he spoke.

“Please, tell my mother that I died fighting the Wildlings!” he stuttered, but no hint of pity showed on Lord Snow’s long face.

He only nodded his head and moved to the last three. Two of them kept silent and the last one flung a curse into his face.

“May the gods curse you, bastard!”

A moment of silence passed and Lord Snow unsheathed his sword. The gentle morning light wafted of the shining surface and he cut the rope with a quick slash of his sword.

The rope tightened and she heard the snapping of bones. A few of them struggled a while longer until they finally stopped moving. Val winced at the sight of their contorted faces and blue skin. I reminded her of the danger that was still lurking beyond the Wall.

_The Others._

“Burn the bodies,” Lord Snow ordered Satin before turning back to Tormund and Val.“We should talk about the future.”

“As you command, King Crow,” Tormund remarked with a loop-sided smile.”But don’t think you are special now. Other people might call you a god, but I only see a green boy.”

”That is good to hear,” Lord Snow replied and his frozen face lightened a little as he lead them back to the Shieldhall.

“So what are we going to do?” Tormund asked after a brief moment of silence.

Lord Snow sat down and whistled. His wolf came closer and rubbed his head against his hand before settling down beneath his feet.

“It is pretty much the old plan. I want you to go to Hardhome to collect as many of your people as you are able. In the meantime I will prepare for an eventual attack of the Bolton bastard. He promised so in his precious letter.”

Tormund gave Lord Snow a surprised look.”Last time you wanted to march straight to Winterfell, didn’t you? And Hardhome…none of the ships returned. All I will find there is a graveyard.”

“I know that, but some of your people might have fled by land,” Lord Snow explained, but Tormund seemed little pleased with the task lying ahead of him.

“So you want me to go and freeze off my balls while you people stay here…all cozy and warm?” Tormund asked, but Val knew it was meant as a jest.

A ghost of a smile washed over Jon’s face.

“I know it is not a very pleasant task, but I will provide you with as many horses and men as you need. I wish I could accompany you, but I am needed here if the Bastard of Bolton really dares to attack the Wall. I may no longer consider myself the Lord Commander, but I will gladly fight against the Bastard of Bolton.”

“So you will have all the fun, eh?” Tormund asked and laughed.

“If you consider soiling the snow with Bolton blood fun…then yes,” Jon replied and she sensed that he wanted to add something witty, but Satin’s sudden appearance put an end to their conversation.

“Riders have arrived!” the boy called out, his eyes immediately darting to Lord Snow.

His stance tensed and his gaze darkened instantly.

“What kind of riders? One of our outriders?” he asked quickly and barely gave the boy a chance to catch a breath.

“One of ours…but they have company,” the boy explained and exhaled deeply.” The Braavosi and the brothers you sent see the King returned and…one of the knights…Ser Massey…and two girls…one of them…he called her Arya.”

_Arya._

_That is the name of Lord Snow’s sister_ , she recalled, but she needed no further confirmation when Lord Snow bolted out of the room.

Val didn’t hesitant to follow after him, though it was more worry than curiosity that spurred her on.

They found the riders surrounded by a group of curious onlookers. Some of them were brothers of the Night’s Watch and others members of the Free folk. Lord Snow ignored them all, his dark cloak violently flapping after him as he brushed them all aside.

“Arya…!” she heard him call out and as his gaze swept over the half-frozen group of people.

Val recognized the Braavosi banker wrapped in a thick shawl and cloak. He and a chunky woman sat perched on a horse, the both of them shivering under their snow-covered pelt.

The knight Ser Massey looked even worse. His face was waxen and the tip of his chin black as the night.

“Lord Snow…,” he croaked and steadied the girl perched before him. Her face was hidden under her cloak and a thick shawl was wrapped her neck.”My King commanded me to…to bring your sister…Lady Arya.”

“Slowly…!” Val called out and instinctively grasped the knight’s arm as he tried to climb from the horse while Lord Snow pulled the girl from his arms.

“Let us get them inside…quickly!” Lord Snow ordered and led the way. Val steadied Ser Massey while the chunky woman steadied the Braavosi.

”The King’s Tower. We will have privacy there and a warm hearth,” he added and she noticed the tremor in his voice. She had worried about his coldness all day, but now the frozen face of his revealed something of the boy he was before his violent death.

“As you say, Lord Snow,” Val added and followed after him. She heard the knight’s whisper, but the wind howling wind drenched out the knight's whispering voice.

Pleasant warmth engulfed her as she stepped inside and Satin immediately started to stoke the fire.

The knight on her shoulder sighed and she helped him sit down in a chair.

“Shall I call for Ser Axell?” Satin asked in a whispery tone as Lord Snow settled the girl down in the bed that was once occupied by Stannis’ Queen.

“Later boy…I need time to compose myself” Ser Massey croaked and waved his hand at the boy. Then he sunk deeper into the chair and closed his eyes.

Satin nodded his head, but clearly hoped for an answer from Lord Snow. Yet the King Crow was far more concerned to free his sister from her never-ending layers of wool and pelt.

“I wished Sam was here,” she heard Lord Snow mutter as he pulled the girl’s shawl from her face.

Then he suddenly stopped. It appeared as if somebody cast a spell over him.

The others were to preoccupied to notice it, but his deadly silence and the shaking of his shoulders alarmed her.

“Jon…!” she called out, first quietly, then louder.”What is wrong?”

He didn’t answer her question nor did he move.

Carefully she crept closer and touched his shoulder.

“That’s not my sister…,” he answered weakly and pulled his cloak from his shoulders, before covering the unconscious girl.

Val was utterly confused.

“Then who...?” she asked, but Lord Snow cut her off. He balled his fists and a grimace of anger and disgust washed over his face.

“The Bastard of Bolton lied!” he shouted aguishly and even Ser Massey was snapped out of his lethargic state.

The knight’s blue eyes snapped open and he gave Lord Snow a flabbergasted look.

“I don't understand…,” he muttered, but Lord Snow rushed towards him and grasped his shoulder rather roughly. It was so unlike him.

“That girl is Jeyne Poole…the Bastard of Bolton fooled you!” he spat at the man who was barely able to sit straight.

“Jon…you are hurting him!” she shouted and hauled him off the poor knight.

“But Theon Greyjoy assured us that it is her!” the chunky woman replied, who had been silent throughout the whole ordeal as she was taking care of the half-dead Braavosi grouching in front of the hearth. He was getting so close to the fire that Val feared he might jump right into the flames.

The mention of this “Theon Greyjoy” made Lord Snow’s head snap around like a whip.

Val was half dragged through the room as she tried pulling him back in fear he might harm the woman.

“Theon Greyjoy slew my brothers. He is a liar and a turn cloak," he snapped."Why would you even trust his word?”

“He saved me…Theon…he saved me,” came the croaking answer, but it was not the chunky woman who spoke, but the girl…Jeyne Poole.

The girl’s pleading voice softened Lord Snow’s features and he staggered towards her, grabbing both her hands.

“Saved you…?” he whispered to her, but she saw how much effort it took him to keep composed.

“Aye…he and the singer…and his women…they helped us escape…,” she stuttered between clattering teeth.

Jon was rubbed her hands between his while his gaze was fixed at the girl.

“Mance…,” he whispered, but Val saw that the name meant nothing to the girl.”What happened to the singer?”

Tears filled her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.

”I don’t know…Theon and I …we jumped from the walls…and an Umber man found us…then they brought us to the King and he sent us here in company of Ser Massey…that is all I know.”

Jon sighed deeply and his shoulders dropped.

“I see,” he said and sounded so hopeless it made her heart ache.”I assume you know nothing of my sister? How did you come to impersonate her?”

Fresh tears rolled down the girl’s cheeks and tightened her grip on Jon’s arm.

“They made me do it…horrible things...,” she whispered and the chunky woman interrupted before the girl could continue with her story.

“My Lady…I think it is best for you to rest,” she told the girl and gently touched her wind-swept hair, before shifting her attention back to Lord Snow.

Her gaze was piercing, almost beseeching.”A night of rest for the girl and you will be able speak to her, Lord Snow.”

Horror was written all over his face and he let go of the girl’s hand.”Of course…I forgot to ask your name…Lady?”

“Alysanne Mormont at your service, Lord Snow,” the chunky woman replied and his eyes widened in recognition.

“I thank you for your service, Lady Mormont,” he replied quietly before leaving the room.

…

She helped the Mormont woman to care for the girl, the Braavosi and the knight, before she set out to find Lord Snow.

She was not surprised to find him again in company of his wolf.

His grim face lightened a little as he saw her, but it was still cold and unreadable. The change was really subtle.

“Maybe we speak?” she asked and smiled, hoping it would console him.

“What is there to speak about? I was fooled…the Bastard of Bolton fooled me,” he muttered and buried his hand in Ghost’s fur. The wolf continued sleeping and was completely unaware to the sorrow and pain they experienced in the last days.

 “Aye, he did…and what are you going to do now? Cry and weep like a little maid or continue what you started. There is no turning back now.”

His grey eyes blazed, but she knew the anger was meant for himself.

“When I came back…I thought it was because I still had something to do…to save Arya. Now…all of it feels like a lie. “You know nothing Jon Snow”…Ygritte used to tell me. I always took it as a jape, but now I feel as if it is true…,” he muttered and cradled his face between his hands.

Val sighed. She was not like her sister Dalla who always had the right words for such situations.

Yet she wanted to try and grouched down next to him.

“What happened to you…nobody can’t fathom your experience, but you seem changed. There is something dark about you…I can´t describe it, but…,” she tried to put her feelings into words, but Lord Snow interrupted her.

“Then stop trying,” he replied in a curtly and stood.”Why are you really here?”

She was hurt by his cold answer, but she knew it was only his frustration speaking. _Or maybe something else…He is so different_

She rose back to her feet and dared touched his shoulder.

“To help you!” she replied and tried to sound as gentle as possible.”You might not realize it, but I care for you,” she admitted.

He didn´t speak for a long time and Val feared her words revealed too much.

But then he grasped her hand and touched his lips to hers. His grip was tight, pulling, tearing at her pelt and dress.

She lost herself to his fevered touch and warm tongue. She clung to him, tearing at his own clothes. Soon she felt the cool air meeting her naked skin.

It made goose pumps bloom on her skin and made her pull at her braid. Her hair fell in wild waves down her back and soon she was back in Lord Snow´s arms.

He kissed her everywhere. Her breasts, her neck and between her legs. His mouth left her gasping and longing for more.

She grinned up at him.

”Now let me return the favor,” she announced and touched him down there. Then she shoved him backwards on the bed and mounted him.

She gasped again loosing herself to the warmth and pleasure.

She made sure that next time he died he would have a sweet memory to cherish, or so she told herself.


	5. Daenerys

Dany felt like burning alive. Sweat was running down her temples and made her clothes cling to her skin. At other times she felt like freezing to death and not even the lamp wool was able to keep her warm.

 _I have a fever_ , she realized and brushed the sweat from her brow. Her mouth felt dry like the Dothraki Sea. To still her thirst she greedily emptied the small bowl of fermented horse milk that one of her assigned maids left for her.

It was like a single drop of water in the desert.

 _I need more_ , she realized and decided to wake one of the maids. There were two of them. Niti who was taken away by one of the riders to share his company and Lora who was now rudely awakened by her.

“Lora!” Dany called out to her.”Wake up!”

At once the girl’s big brown eyes opened and fear washed over her face.

“Forgive me Khaleesi,” she apologized and bowed her head in reverence.”I was tired.”

Dany gave her a gentle smile and touched her cheek.”It is no bother. I just wondered if you would be able to bring me another bowl of milk.”

A small smile crossed over the girl’s lips and she instantly sprung to her feet to dress herself.

“Of course,” she replied and and soon returned with the promised bowl of milk.

Dany granted her another smile and brought the bowl to her lips. The taste familiar and gave her back some of her strength.The Khal's riders forced her to walk to their camp by foot. All the way she retched and bled. Truly, she was surprised that she was still alive. Yet she was still feverish and occasionally bleeding between her legs. Niti even explained to her that this was the only reason the Khal didn’t take her the last nights was that the Dothraki don’t like to bed bleeding women. It was a superstition Dany was already familiar with. Her sun and stars never bedded her when she had her moonblood.

Her sleep wasn’t much better. Every night she dreamed of Drogon and her other children. When she heard their desperate cries she always woke with tears in her eyes. I was only worse when she thought of Meereen and the people she freed from slavery. She felt as if she betrayed them.

What happened there filled her both with guilt and anger. _My husband betrayed me. I married him to make peace and he betrayed me to the Harpy’s sons._

Her anger made her regain the determination she felt lost. _If only Drogon came back to her. I could burn the Khal and his riders to cinder. Then I would be able to go home and end the reign of the Harpy’s Sons. No more peace. Only Fire and Blood._

“Where is your mind, Khaleesi?” Lora asked as innocently. She was a pretty girl, graced with pale skin and golden-brown hair. Her eyes were blue like a summer sky and sometimes she was reminded of reminded Doreah.

“Far away,” she admitted.”In Meereen…the city I reigned over as a Queen.”

The girl’s widened in wonder.”So it is true? You really were a Queen?”

”I am still the Queen of Meereen, but I cant’t go back until my dragon returns to me,” Dany explained.”Have you perhaps seen a creature like that?”

Lora’s eyes widened even more and her mouth opened and closed slowly.

“The Winged Shadow we saw is yours?” she asked and Dany felt utter relief wash over her.”Winged Shadow? Drogon? You saw him?”

Lora bobbed her head.”I saw him only a few days ago. The Khal thinks he will be able to tame him to his will.”

A shiver filled her from head to toe. _Never. A dragon is not a slave._

Spurred on by this news she pulled herself up, but she soon realized that she was far too weak. It was Lora who had to catch her and helped her lie back down.

“You are still sick, Khaleesi,” the girl insisted and nestled down next to her.”Niti said the fever comes from the bleeding. She also said that she will bring us help to gain strenght. She knows all about these things. Her grandmother was a healer.”

Dany nodded her head and felt suddenly very tired. It was midday when she woke again and found Niti crouching next to her. She was a copper-skinned girl graced with cat-green eyes.

“Here...drink this,” she explained and held the small steaming bowl to her mouth.”It will help you.”

Dany winced at the sharp smell, but drank nonetheless. The taste was even worse, but it was better than to die.

Again she fell into a deep sleep and dreamed of her children. This time she sat on Drogon’s back and was flying over the never-ending Dothraki Sea.

 _Please come back to me_ , she whispered. _Don't forget about your mother._

She didn't know how much time had passed since her last waking, but it was the first time in days that her head felt clear.

“You are finally awake,” Lora whispered and touched her cheeks.

“Your fever is also gone,” she explained, but there was no happiness showing on her face.

Then she felt a pull on her shoulders and she was hauled into a sitting position. It was Niti.

“The Khal wants to meet you,” Niti explained with a serious expression. Dany shivered, knowing very well what that meant. It made her wish to fall back into her never ending fever dreams. _Take me away. Let me go back to my child._

“He even sends you fresh clothing and jewels to bedeck yourself,” Niti explained and showed her the glimmering cloth and the jade bracelet and earnings.

“And what if I refuse his gifts?” she asked defiantly.

Lora was shocked by her daring words.”Then he will drag you out of here and take you anyway.”

Niti nodded her head.

”Lora speaks the truth. It is better for you to give him what you wants. If he likes you he might even make you his Khaleesi. He cares little for the old rules or that you once belonged to another Khal. Your sons will rule over the Dothraki Sea.”

Dany wanted to laugh and tell them that this is impossible. Her son died, taken away from a witch. _I am barren_ , she knew and fresh despair washed over her.

She wanted to weep, but she learned long ago that it was no use. _If I look back I am lost,_ she told herself and flashed the two girls a determined look.

At least she would be able to get out of here. She might even find a way to escape if she were to win the Khal's favor. Or buy time for Drogon to find her.

“Alright,” she said.”Help me dress and wash.”

She was rubbed clean and dressed in new garments. Then she was led through the camp. The smell of roasted horse flesh, sweat and horseshit filled the air. It was a familiar smell that might have once filled her with happy memories. Now she felt only dread, like on the day her brother sold her to Khal Drogo.

She hated to be afraid. It made her angry. _I am a dragon,_ she assured herself as the guards led her into a large tent made of fine material.

Khal Jhaqo was no friend to Dany. Once he served her sun and stars and now he was a Khal himself. She also recalled what he once did to the poor Lhazareen girl. _They raped her and now they will do the same with me_ , she thought and shivered again.

He hasn’t changed much from the man he once was. He was still tall, strong and his eyes were dark like the shadow lands.

A satisfied smirk crossed her lips when Mago and another one of her former husband’s riders pulled her forward. She didn’t resist, for that would only encourage the more. She straightened herself instead and met his gaze directly.

“What do I see?” he asked and slapped his knees.

”Khal Drogo’s khaleesi. We believed you dead and lost in the Dothraki Sea, but now we heard you are calling yourself a Queen. Tradition commands me to send you to the Dosh Khaleen, but I never gave a shit about traditions.”

His mouthy words brought forth laughter by the other men. Dany ignored his behavior and addressed him directly.

“I greet you, Khal Jhaqo. I am sure my husband would be pleased to see you well,” she lied. Drogo would have cut out his tongue and brought her his head.

“Shut your mouth and come here!” he ordered her instead. With gritted teeth she sat down next to him.”We intend to eat.”

His filthy hands touched her legs and breasts while young girl brought them horseflesh covered in honey sauce.

 All the while Dany’s wind was whirling with plans to flee from this place. The brief glimpse she had on the camp was little promising. She doubted she would get far even if she was able to steal one of her horses. _They would catch me and rape me,_ she knew and ate slowly. _Still I have to try._

All she could hope for was what Drogon will come back for her. So she smiled and played along. They drank deep into the night and she felt her weakness return to her as the Khal dragged her along.

She didn’t struggle, because she knew that would only encourage his cruelty.

She walked upright, but shivered inwardly. _I am a dragon. I am a dragon. I am a dragon._

The Khal’s sleeping place was a bed consisting of hundreds of cushions and steaming brazier to ward of the chilly air night.

He pulled down his trousers and settled own on the bed, before throwing her lustful gaze.

”Get here or I will drag you!” he commanded.

Dany gritted her teeth and pulled her dress from her shoulders, leaving her naked as her name day. She slowly walked towards him waving her hips left and right. She still recalled her lessons from Doreah, but she had no intention of pleasing the man in front of her. Her other hand was roaming through her mane of hair kept together by a sharp hairpin made of silver. Lora gave it to her, but she doubted the girl fathomed her use.

“Do you like the view,” she said and flashed the man a seductive smile.

The Khal grinned showing his white teeth.

”Shut up and come here!” he said and grasped at her naked hips.

He made an attempt to turn her around to take her, but she resisted. Instead she lay down on her back and opened her legs to him.

“I prefer to look you in the eyes,” she told him and smiled cheekily.

Then she sat up and leaned closer to his ears.

“Do you like that?” she whispered into his ears while she grabbed for the pin.

“Shut up!” she heard him mutter and felt his rough grip, but it was already too late. With one hard shove she brought the pin home into his neck. His eyes widened and she pushed him down on the bed with all the strength she could muster in her weakened body.

He was no man to go down without a fight. He grabbed for her shoulders, scratching, pulling and hurting her.

With all her strength she leaned on his body and pulled the needle out, before pushing it again into his neck. More and more blood pooled under her and drenched the floor and the cushions. It's iron smell made her want to retch, but then it was finally over. He was dead.

She dressed herself quietly and made her way to the opening of the tent. Outside she heard the music and the laughter. Soon they will be drunk from then wine and then she might be able to get away. She might even be able to find Drogon if she only made it into the desert. It was her only choice.

She tended to her scratches while she waited and listened to the music and laughter. She didn’t know how much time had passed, but she decided she that she waited long enough.

Pulling her cloak over her face she stepped outside. The night air was icy and made he shudder. Above her head she found a sea of stars stretching endlessly over the sky. 

She walked among the shadows, slowly and silently as she was able to manage until a sharp cry pierced the silence. It made her heart swell with happiness.

“Drogon,” she whispered and searched the sky. And there he was. His dark scales blended out the moonlight as glided over the sea of tents.

At once the whole _khalasar_ came back to life. Women fled and dragged their children along while men grabbed for their weapons and bows.

She watched in a mix of fear and pride as he swept down bathed the camp in flames.

Soon everything was drowned in the the shrill cries of men, women and children. _No_ , Dany thought and moved towards her child, stumbling over scorched bodies.

The smell of burned flesh filled her nose as the arrows hissed through the air.

Then the spears followed sticking in Drogon's skin like small needles. It made her recall the betrayal in the Dragon Pit.

_No! No! No!_

Panic gripped her and she rushed towards her struggling child. Drogon was wild and threw flames wherever resistance met him.

Dany didn’t care. She kept moving even as she felt the hot touch of the flames upon her skin.

“Drogon!” she shouted.”I am here!”

The heat and smoke made her eyes burn, but she didn’t stop until she stood right in front of him, freeing his hot scales beneath her hands.

“I am here!” she assured him fervently and climbed up his body. Her feet were bare and she slipped a few times, but then she finally found one of the spears lodged into his skin. Pulling it out her child stirred back to life, but she was able to cling to one of his scales before he could shrug her off.

“My poor sweet child!” she whispered and crawled up his neck; pulling out the spears as she went.”My poor sweet child!”

Yet the Dothraki weren't prepared to give up. They unleashed a volley of arrows upon them and Drogon bent his neck to the side to protect her, but he wasn't fast enough. She felt a sharp sting on her right feet and blood running down her legs and toes.

All the air was drenched out of her body. The pain was so overwhelming that she drew blood from her lips.

“Drogon…we need to get away!” she begged, but he didn’t move. 

Filled with this realization she pulled herself up and gripped one of his scales. Drogon had no intention to flee nor did she.

“Drogon! Dracarys!” she cried out one last time before the world was bathed in flames.

 Somewhere between the cries and the heat she heard familiar cries joining with Drogon's. _Rhaegal…she thought or was it  Viserion?_

It filled her heart with relief and confusion. _At last my children came back to me…_


	6. Jon

**Jon**

Jeyne Poole looked no longer like the girl that used to looked down on the bastard of Winterfell.

_Sad_ , that is how he would describe her brown eyes. _So very sad._

The girl never held a kind word for him as a child, but now he could only feel rage. Whatever the bastard of Bolton did, he had no doubt that the vile creature would have done the same to Arya.

Deep down he wanted to know what he did, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask the girl when she was looking at him with those wet eyes.

“Forgive me…I can’t tell you more,” she whispered and clutched the bedding. ”I already told you what I know.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” he assured her and rose to his feet, making his way towards the door. At last he stopped.

I need to say something…something to comfort her.

“I cannot ease your pain, my Lady,” he said and balled his fists. ”But soon will hang his head from the ramparts of Winterfell. This I promise.”

Jeyne Poole stared at him with her wide brown eyes for a long time. Then she started to cry again.

There was nothing he could do.

Helpless he closed the door behind him and stepped out in the corridor. Ghost was there and Val.

He hadn’t seen her since morning, but her smile was soft and inviting. It felt like glimpse of sunshine after a snow storm.

The old Jon Snow would have refused her, but he was no longer the boy that was slain by his brothers.

_My watch has ended_ , he knew and forced a smile over his lips. Even when he was happy to see her he felt unable to smile. _Maybe this is another side-effect of my resurrection._

He didn’t even want to think of it.

“Lord Crow,” she greeted him almost sweetly and pulled her braid over her shoulders.”Tormund and the others are waiting for you. I called them to the Shieldhall. Even the Queen’s Knights came crawling out of their holes.”

“You have my thanks,” he replied and she allowed him to pass. Ghost was quickly at his side, Val following after them.

“How is the girl?” she asked as their made their way down the steps.”Jeyne, right?”

“Bad,” he replied briefly. Just thinking about it made his blood boil. ”Very bad.”

“We will kill this bastard,” she added confidently as if she could see the future. Jon wanted to do nothing more than that, but the situation was not in their favour. If King Stannis died there would be nothing left of the Northern forces.

_I will have to rely on the Wildlings_ , Jon knew and opened the door for Val. Together they stepped out in the courtyard. A dark sky spread over the wall, painting it in a dull grey colour.

He spotted his brothers practicing with their bows, several wildlings sharpening their hunting spears and Wun Wun feasting slurring down his supper.

_Giants_ , he thought. _Giants._

It was like a rhythm on his lips that didn’t leave him until he stepped in the Shieldhall.

“There you are Lord Crow!” Tormund quipped amusedly. He was not alone. There was Harl the Huntsman, Soren Shieldbreaker, Gerrick Kingsblood, Torreg the Tall, the Magnar of Thenn and many more. The Queen’s men were also there, hovering at the other edge of the table, their faces miserable and pale. First they lost their King, then their Princess and at last their Queen. Lady Alysanne Mormont and Lady Alys were the only Northern women among the assembly and looked lost and distant.

“Leave the candlesticks be and sit down Satin,” he told his steward who obeyed without question.

“Now…what shall we do, Lord Crow?” Val asked, breaking the heavy silence that had settled over them. ”Will you tell us about your plans?”

“I already told you,” he replied, his gaze sweeping over the assembled group of people. ”Tormund…I still want you to go to Hardhome. You remember my instructions?”

“I do as you say, Lord Crow,” he grumbled. ”And you will stay here?”

“No,” he replied and flexed his hand. ”I received a raven from Eastwatch...the giants and mammoths arrived. I intend to recruit them for our fight. With their help we may be able to bring down the walls of Winterfell.”

“First you need to convince them,” the Magnar countered. ”You should take Leathers with you.”

“I will. Leathers and Val will come with me,” he confirmed and shifted his attention to the Queen’s men. ”Ser Massey…You should accompany us if you still intend to leave for Essos.”

The Knight frowned, the tip of his nose still black as ink.

“What use would that be?” he asked and shrugged his shoulders.”A dead King has no use for mercenaries and the Braavosi banker wants to leave. I doubt he will give us coin now that heard of our King’s demise. All is lost.”

“Nothing is lost as long as we are alive!” Jon snapped at the man.”I cannot help your King, but enemy is still out there, waiting for us. Ramsey Bolton and the Others.”

“Maybe that was another lie the Red Witch made up to fool our King!” Ser Narbert Grandison shouted. ”She fooled us all. We murdered the Princess for nothing...for nothing, may the gods forgive us.”

“A bit late to show remorse!” Massey snarled back, anger written all over his face.

“You also believed in her prophecies,” Ser Narbert snapped back, his hands gracing over the pommel of his blade.

“Enough!” Jon shouted and slashed his hand on the table. At once they stopped and turned back to him. “Lady Melisandre is dead, but the Others are still out there and we need to kill the Boltons if we want to prepare for Winter. Your King may have failed, but he left you with his mission. He told me that he came here to protect the realm against the true enemy. If you ever loved him you will continue his fight beyond his grave. Or are these proud knights before my very eyes not as loyal as I thought?”

“I will fight,” Massey declared proudly and patted his scabbard. ”I rather die with a sword in my hands than to kneel down to a Lannister bastard.”

His declaration stirred the others out of their lethargy and almost all of them declared their willingness to fight.

“Good,” Jon said and met Ser Massey’s gaze. ”I will try to return as soon as possible, but in the meantime I want you to stay here at the Wall to keep the peace between the Wildlings and my brothers. I have already called for Ser Mallister. I intend to name him interim Lord Commander once we depart for Winterfell. He is a good man and I know he won’t go against my past decrees. The Night’s Watch will elect a new Lord Commander once Winterfell is ours.”

“Understood,” Massey replied stiffly.

 Only Lady Alysanne Mormont and Lady Alys remained after the Wildlings left. Val stayed as well and sat down before the hearth, Ghost settled next to her on the ground.

In silence she observed their exchange.

“I know it is much to ask,” Jon asked and poured both of them a cup of mulled wine.”But would your sister be able to offer us men for our fight? I would be good to have Northmen amongst our ranks.”

“I can do that,” Lady Mormont replied and sipped from the wine.”But I doubt she can spare more than a hundred men. We lost much in the past struggles and we cannot leave Bear Island without protection.”

“I understand,” he said and lowered his head. Then he shifted his attention to Lady Alys.

“There is still the matter of your cousin,” he said. ”He sits in the Ice Cells. I wanted to hand him over to the King, but now I think it is best if we take him with us. He will be our hostage. I only wanted to get your approval, my Lady.”

“Do with him as you please,” the Lady replied brushed her fingers over the cup. ”I will not weep for him. He was a fool to come here and now he has to live with the consequences of his actions. My Uncle will surely think twice to attack us. He was always very fond of him.”

“That is good,” Jon replied and felt a hint of relief. His plans were finally taking form. ”That is very good.”

Once they had left he exhaled deeply. The mulled wine was warm, but the sweet taste gave him no comfort. Now that his mind was no longer occupied his thoughts were returning to Jeyne Poole.

“You look as if I cut off your balls and ate them,” Val japed and stroke Ghost’s fur. Then she rose to her feet and pulled off her pelted cloak. Her hair was suddenly open, falling freely over her shoulders like a shroud of gold.

_When did she free her braid_ , he wondered and put the cup away.

She seemed to sense his surprise and smiled.

“I am fine,” he assured her and flexed his hand.

Val smiled again and pulled off her dress, followed by her boots.

“Soon you will feel even better.”

He couldn’t help but to smile.

“I hope so,” he replied ever gloomily, which earned him a playful slap on the shoulder. Then she rose to her toes and wound her arms his neck, her lips brushing his cheek.

“Stop being so fucking gloomy!”

“Understood,” he replied and touched his lips to hers.

**…**


End file.
